Chapter Twenty
Callan imagined tying a bow to this case and shipping it off to a black hole. If not for Aileen, he’d have let the throbbing at the base of his neck win.
Not used to sitting all day, his muscles had cramped, shooting jolts of electricity through his body. He rubbed his knee, trying to dispel the pain.
‘You should rest, Callan. The doctors said you need sleep.’
He’d sleep with Aileen tucked safely to his side, not battling alone to stay in Loch Fuar.
Callan let go of his knee, promising to rain vengeance on it later, and glanced at the once tiled wall, now covered with white sheets to create a pseudo murder board.
Walsh had taped papers together and drawn a straight line across them at a level Callan could reach.
Their stapled excuse of a board gave Callan some confide
